


KageHina Month Drabbles

by freakofnature



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt and comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overdosing, Rape, Self-Harm, Suicide, Warnings for specific things in the author's note, rating might go up????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakofnature/pseuds/freakofnature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the collection of drabbles from kagehina month</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm selfish, but I love you

**Author's Note:**

> yO i found out about [kagehina month](http://kagehinakagemonth.tumblr.com) (so cool oh my god) and i was like WOW I NEED TO DO THIS and i looked at the prompts and let me tell u all of these are going to be sad. esp week one (the ones i plan to do) 
> 
> i cross post on [my tumblr](http://skeletonkenma.tumblr.com) (and if u want to cry to me there (or talk or give me really sad ideas for a prompt or smth idk) u are more than welcome to do that! totally man
> 
> Warnings: self harm, attempted suicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to die. I don’t want to be here. I don’t—I never wanted. I just want it to stop, _why didn’t you stop me_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Self-Harm and Attempted Suicide  
> Prompt: But I love you

          He knew there was going to be a day like this. A day where he couldn’t take it. There was no reason for _this_ day to be _the_ day, but it was all the same. Everything seemed muted in color, all the laughter seemed fake, insincere, _jaded_ (like him). He was lucky it was winter, it was harder to cover them in the summer, and recently, it had gotten worse. Every night he went home, after laughing with his friends and pretending everything was fine— _totally fine I’m just tired classes are a bitch_ —he would disappear into his room. It didn’t always hit him at once. Sometimes he just knew throughout the day he was going to do it. Other times he would walk into his room to change clothes and it would all just come crashing down. Today was that day. The day it crashed all around him. He wasn’t sure what brought it on, other than _everything_ being wrong. But after kissing his boyfriend good evening and getting roped into cuddling on the couch, he excused himself to change. Classes were easy that day, it was just test after test (and really he was positive that teachers sat together and planned tests just to make their students weep for weeks, he was sure of that) which he had studied for. He had gotten better at that; studying. Often times he would call Daichi or Suga late at night, almost in tears because he didn’t understand something and the test was _next week_ but they helped him, just like they helped him his first year of high school. They were still the same amazing senpais that they were four years ago.

          On the day everything shattered, he was standing in his room, shirt halfway over his head. It took all his control to not chuck the shirt on the floor and leap for his weapons, if they could be called that. No, instead he put his shirt where he always put it and calmly made his way into the adjoining bathroom, pulling out the broken razors he used too many times to count.

          One was for anger—why was he so fucked up? Why couldn’t he be normal? What happened to him that made him this way?

          Two was for confusion—how had no one noticed his cries for help? How had his boyfriend of two years, his best friend of _four_ not noticed how he cried in the middle of the night? That they rarely did anything past heavy petting—if that?

          Three was the deepest, and he hissed and pulled the blade away, stretching the wound out so he could look how far down it went. His skin wasn’t pooling red just yet, just the pretty white of fresh skin, sliced down in a perfect line. Three was for pity—he wouldn’t wish this pain on his worst enemy. The mental state he had to be in to do this to himself, it wasn’t healthy. But he couldn’t stop. And to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop.

          Four was for pain—he hated this, he hated himself. All of this, he wanted to stop, but his hands, they couldn’t. His body, it wanted _more._ His mind craved it. Only his heart knew it was wrong, but in the grand scheme of things, his heart didn’t really matter.

          Five made him drop the blade and sob. Five wasn’t for anything, it was to stop the itch in his fingers, even as he looked down at the fallen piece of metal, the fingers on his unharmed hand craved to feel it in their grip. The cool metal glinting in the dim bathroom light. The stark red that covered the sharp end of it, dripping slowly to the floor with each and every cut. He _needed_ to see that. He needed. He needed—

          Six was the end. Six was long, and deeper than three. It covered about half of his forearm, and the broken scream that parted his lips made the bathroom door crash open.

          “Shouyo!”

          His eyes snapped open, the blade still clutched in his fingers—though slowly they were losing their strength. Dropping the metal, he reached out with his working arm and cried, collapsing into his boyfriend as Kageyama fell to the floor, ignoring the growing pool of blood that was dripping steadily from his other arm. “T-tobio,” he tried to grasp at his boyfriends shirt, wanting to press his body closer. But one arm was too weak to do so, and the other was growing weaker by the second.

          “Shou, Shou, _why_?”

          Ignoring the question, he just cried harder, bowing his head and staring at his captor. The metal shined brightly now that the bathroom lights were on, “I want to die. I don’t want to be here. I don’t—I never wanted. I just want it to stop, _why didn’t you stop me_?”

          The babbling continued, broken phrases as his body grew heavier and heavier, his eyes slipping closed on multiple occasions, only peering open when pressure was applied to his many cuts and kisses peppered on his face. He felt dampness drop onto his face, and it hurt his heart. He didn’t want to do this to him, his boyfriend was kind and good. He deserved better. Not him; a broken man and a _liar_.

          “Shou, oh Shouyo, I should have said something, I should have helped you sooner.” It hurt to hear that normally cheerful (and it was cheerful, it just was shone differently than _normal_ cheerfulness) broken. But it felt good too. Tobio was broken like him. He wasn’t alone in his pain and sorrow. Albeit it was for different reasons, and he was the reason for Tobio’s brokenness, but…in a way. He was okay with that.

          When the paramedics got there—they told his boyfriend that if he had called not even five minutes later he would be dead (why didn’t his boyfriend call ten minutes later he wanted to _die_ )—he lashed out at them, crying faintly and telling them to let him die here. But Tobio, oh wonderful Tobio, took his good hand and squeezed. “I’m too selfish to let you die, Shou. I wish I could have helped you more, I wish you would have talked to me instead of hiding it all like the dumbass you are,” he wanted the other crack a smile, and he tried to do the same but it hurt and he was too heavy. He felt heavy. Almost dead, but not quite. It was upsetting. “I’m selfish, but I love you.”


	2. Don't cry for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you pass on and join me, you can tell me everything that happened. I’m looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: OCC Kageyama. also implied character death but uh. its not? its just bittersweet i think it'll be okay  
> Prompt: Sleeping Habits
> 
> im sorry tho, i have to hurt them always its an issue orz
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](http://trashkinguta.tumblr.com)

          Shouyou. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t see you graduate, or see you drive that car you always went on about. I’m so sorry that I can’t say these things out loud; that I’m resorting to pen and paper to tell you how much I am going to miss you.

          I love you.

          I love you so much it hurts. It makes me feel alive, and when I tell you I love you, whether I manage to mumble the words or you let me hit you because you did something dumb and you know. If I was able to hit you I would. It’s an ‘I love you’ and it makes you smile. That smile brightens my whole day. Even if you only stay for a few minutes, seeing you smile makes staying _here_ so much better.

          But I didn’t want to make you cry, not in this letter. I bet you are though, you dumbass. Dumbass Shou. Stop crying. I’m gone, you cried when you found out I had cancer, you cried when I lost my hair, you cried when they told you I might live, and then again when they discovered it was spreading quicker than they thought. You cried so much for me. And you cried for selfish reasons, because you didn’t want to be without me. Did you see me cry? Ignoring the time that the pain got so bad I gripped at your shirt with all I could and sobbed because I didn’t want to feel it anymore. Was there any other time? No, because I knew my time was limited, so I spent it like I would have. Except I really couldn’t do that confined to a hospital bed, now could I? That really sucked, I wish they would have let me go out more; especially with you. So stop crying. Wipe those tears off your cheeks and straighten your back. You loved me until my dying breath, I’m sure of it. So if you going to cry (because you’re a fucking dumbass who never listens to me until you have done it your way and _failed_ ) cry about the fact that I’m free. I don’t have these damn IVs in my arm. I probably have hair in the afterlife, and I bet it’s amazing. I can walk, I can breathe without feeling that knife stabbing pain in my chest. Cry because I don’t feel the pain, and thank god I won’t feel the pain. If I wake up dead and the pain is still there, I will haunt you and make you do something drastic or something. Or maybe you’ll still love me and we can just live—or you can live—until you turn into a ghost too and we can be ghosts together. Wistful thinking, I know. But I got to think positively once and a while. I don’t want to end up with a huge stick up my ass in the ghost life and be a Ghost Tsukiyama.

          Made you laugh, didn’t I? Good.

          Now I wanted to tell you something. Something about you, about my time with you. Those wonderful ten years we spent together.

          You couldn’t cook for shit in college. Whatever everyone told you, it was a lie. Yell at Suga especially, he made us all tell you it was amazing. But, in your defense, you got better. You were better than me, and after the time when I was upset that you didn’t cook what I wanted for dinner that night and tried to make noodles and burned a pot of water, I realized that I did not know anything about a kitchen. You spoiled me so much, maybe too much. Pork more than once a week, how much did it set us back sometimes? A few thousand yen? But you did it because you loved me, and I thank you for that.

          The first time we kissed, I watched your eyes flutter closed, and I had never seen your face so close, but you have faint dots on your cheekbones. I couldn’t call them freckles, if they were darker maybe, but little birthmarks-I’ll call them that. They made you more radiant then I ever thought you could be. When I kissed you during the championship of our second year—I will never forget how red you got—I know the exact place your hands gripped my jersey. How your mouth tensed against mine for the briefest of seconds before relaxing and letting me take the lead. I remember wiping the tears off your face, and kissing your forehead as you laughed and cried because _we had won_. It was amazing, and Daichi had come down to hug us all. He was still our captain. He would always be our captain. Even now, we all still look up to him.

          Your sleeping habits are the dumbest shit I have ever witnessed. The first time you talked in your sleep, I almost jumped out of the bed. It was terrifying. The fact that you kick in your sleep, and then question the next morning why you feel so sore, or why there were bruises on your shins. It didn’t help you did everything except sleep walk. One night I walked in on you crying out ‘BASEBALL’ and throwing your arm up and then back down, hitting the bed with a loud smack. It took all I had not to wake you up with my laughter. It was too adorable.

          Your nightmares worried me. I don’t know if you remember telling me, but after a particularly bad night, you told me you dreamed about me dying. I guess that dream was right, so many years before. You never told me the details, just that it was heartbreaking for you. You didn’t let go of me the entire night, and the rest of the week you were extra clingy. I didn’t say anything too harsh, I knew it scared you. In fact, I tried to be a little more tender—not too much though since you are the idiot that takes ‘give an inch take a mile’ to a whole new level.

          I love you, Shouyou. I know I didn’t say it enough, and I wish that in another life (since I know you like that stuff) we can be happy together until we die together. But we did have a good life, didn’t we? We played at the Olympics, like we always wanted. The amount of money we got from all of that was insane. I never knew what I wanted to do with it. When you aren’t here, I think about it. Medical bills are surely going to take a huge chunk out of earnings, but I think we will still have enough.

          Are you listening still Shouyo? Have your tears blurred these words yet? Are the tear drops soaking into the page like mine are right now? I hope not, I did tell you to stop crying, you dumbass. When I’m gone, I want you to do something for me. If we have enough money, and I’m sure we will, I want you to take my ashes and let them flutter in the wind of _whatever_ place you want to. As long as it has meaning to both of us, I don’t mind where it is. Also, I want you to become a coach, it will get you out of the house. And you can see where we came from. You can relate to them, help them more than other coaches can.

          And when you are old and wrinkly, I hope that you look on the television and see some of those students making it big in the volleyball scene. And when you pass on and join me, you can tell me everything that happened. I’m looking forward to it.

          --Tobio        


	3. Feel like I'm about to fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You did it Hinata.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Implied Self-Harm  
> Prompt: Tip toes
> 
> no death or anything. but body worship a bit haha.

          He remembers their first kiss. How he had to stand on his tip toes to reach Kageyama’s lip. How the other boy had to lean down. He remembers it being chaste; just a simple press of their lips. People who said first kisses are like fireworks were right. It was like an explosion of heat that traveled throughout his body, making him warm all over, even though the sun was setting in the middle of the fall. And though Hinata felt warm, Kageyama’s lips were cool against his, which made it all the better. He felt so much better with Kageyama’s lips on his. Better than he had in months, in _years_.

_ _ _

          The first time Hinata gasped against Kageyama’s lips was less to do with ecstasy and more to do with defeat. He had been crying, eyes swollen, cheeks red. His head had been pounding, his shoulder shaking. He was achy and sore and he just wanted it all to end. But then Kageyama had found him, holed up in the school’s bathroom and pulled him close, kissing his cheeks, his temples, the tip of his nose, before pressing a gentle kiss to Hinata’s lips. He tried to speak, to tell his boyfriend _sorry he was so sorry_ but Kageyama just held him until Hinata had calmed down. It was around that time that Hinata began to understand how much he cared for Kageyama—it was so much beyond high school love—and it almost made him start crying all over again. That day Kageyama walked him to the nurse and asked the older lady if he could take Hinata home. She seemed unwilling to let them go, considering Hinata could walk just fine and looked to be healthy enough, but when she took notice of the fact that Hinata was gripping Kageyama’s school shirt tight enough to turn his knuckles white (coupled with the fact that he refused to make any sort of eye contact and his shoulders shook with smothered sobs) she wrote them a note and bid them goodbye.

          Kageyama had held him in bed, not saying a single word as Hinata shuddered and gasped and cried. At one point Hinata had tried to reach for his bedside table, but Kageyama had caught him and pulled his hand back. At that point, Hinata knew that his boyfriend knew his habits, and it made him equally sick—because he was sick and how had he not covered his tracks better?—and relieved—because maybe now someone could help him.

_ _ _

          They were at the store with the rest of the team, when Hinata stood on his tip toes and tried to reach for something a little too high. He had forgotten about the cuts on his sides and his arms, and the movement pulled at the skin, breaking the new cuts open again. He winced in pain—soft enough to be ignored by the team, but loud enough to be heard by his boyfriend next to him—and suddenly the item was in his hand, dark blue eyes staring at him with a mix of anger and sadness. Hinata couldn’t deal with it and looked away.

          Being the captain and vice-captain of the team, Hinata knew Kageyama couldn’t pull him away and drag him home, but the taller boy stuck close to him at all times, and was a tad snappier than usual. The team seemed to notice it—even Tsukishima saw how on edge he was (they had all calmed down enough to be good friends, but they still got in squabbles just like their first year). When some of the boys started going home, the blond boy and told Kageyama to go home, that he would watch the dumb brats who wanted to stick around. It was hard to tell, but the relief that flooded Kageyama’s face made Hinata realize how worried he actually was. With a clipped ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’ Kageyama took Hinata’s hand and gently tugged him away.

          Hinata knew that Kageyama’s parents worked late more often than not, and so it was no surprise that they ended up in his room in an empty house. Kageyama had told him to text his mother that he would be spending the night, and Hinata let a small smile play at his lips, “Good thing I left some clothes over here, right?” he mumbled as he followed Kageyama’s instructions. The only response he got was a snort, but it made him smile a little wider and he was thankful for that.

          “What happened this time?” they had situated themselves so that Kageyama was on his back, Hinata legs on either side of his waist, his head pressed against Kageyama’s chest.

          “I got…just,” he struggled to find words for why he did it _again_ , “college.” He said finally, feeling Kageyama hold him just a little tighter, “I’m so stupid and dumb, and I’m only good at volleyball but that’s not _enough_ —”

          “Oi,” if Hinata knew one thing, it was when Kageyama was irritated, “you are plenty smart, and you are amazing at volleyball, so shut up.” It made him smile, those words. Usually Kageyama was so brash and rude and blunt. And even if the words were harsh, the meaning behind them was almost always endearing. But now, with his stilted words and frequent pauses, Hinata _knew_ that his boyfriend was trying to put his feelings into words. It warmed him up to think that Kageyama would try so hard to overcome his difficulty with words, just for him.

          Before Hinata could come back with something demeaning to say about himself—he was thinking about it, because really he was entirely useless almost always—Kageyama pressed his lips against his cheek. It stunned Hinata into silence, face slowly flushing as those lips peppered kisse along his face, hovering on his lips for a moment before connecting their lips. Hinata tasted the love on Kageyama’s lips, the worry that lingered on the edge of his lips. His hands came up and gripped Kageyama’s shirt with bruising force, slowly moving his lips against the other’s, tears silently making tracks down his face.

          “You’re smart,” Kageyama repeated, his hands slipping from Hinata’s back to push at his chest. Hinata listened to the unspoken order and let his boyfriend switch their positions, “You got to be vice-captain for a _reason_ , Hinata, not Tsukishima, not Yamaguchi. _You_.”

          Ducking back down, Hinata shuddered through his tears as Kageyama kissed along his jaw and down his neck. A wet, slimy feeling slid along his collarbone and Hinata laughed softly at the feeling, feeling Kageyama smirk against his damp skin. Hands pushed up and under his shirt, mapping out the skin they knew so well. When Kageyama pulled back, he kissed Hinata’s tear stained cheeks, his lips getting damp in the process as Hinata was confident in the fact that he was still crying. “And you’re talented,” his voice was softer this time around, guiding Hinata’s shirt off his body and letting it flutter to the floor with a silent swoosh. Wrapping his fingers gently around Hinata’s wrist, he brought his hand to his face, kissing the tip of each finger before pressing his lips into Hinata’s palm. He trailed kisses along his arm, and then turned it over palm down so he could see the scars on his upper arm. There were no words said as Kageyama let his lips touch one of the lower scars, but Hinata’s breath hitched, his free hand covering his eyes so he didn’t have to watch his boyfriend lovingly— _so lovingly_ —touch the darkest parts of him.

          Kageyama kissed all of the white-lined scars, before he let Hinata’s hand drop back to the bed. The same actions took place on his other arm, and by now Hinata was crying openly.

          “I love you,” the words were hushed, the setting sun streaming through a crack in the curtains and spilling across Hinata’s chest. It was warm. “I love you _so much_.” Kageyama spread his fingers across Hinata’s bare chest and leaned forward to kiss him softly, “please stop hurting yourself, it hurts me too.” He mumbled against the other’s lips, twin tears trailing down his cheeks.

          “Okay,” Hinata spoke, wet and gross, but he felt light. Like he could fly. Like the time when he had to stand on his toes to reach Kageyama in his first year of high school. Like the fateful day in the late fall when he perched on his tip toes to kiss him for the first time, “I’ll try, I’ll try for you, I promise.”

_ _ _

          After they had thrown their hats into the air, Hinata turned and surged up onto his tip toes, pressing his lips hard against Kageyama’s. He other tensed for a brief moment before wrapping his arms around Hinata’s waist, kissing him back.

          “We did it,” Hinata breathed out, his calfs feeling a slight burn from standing on his toes, but he didn’t care much about it, “Kageyama, we did it!”

          Smiling, Kageyama just lifted him up off the ground and kissed him silent, muffling Hinata’s breathless laughter. He felt like he was flying again. Kageyama seemed to do that to him, after so many years. Made him fly with his spikes, made him fly away with that first kiss, with all the times that Hinata had broken down in class and Kageyama had to come find him to take him back home, with the kisses each night to his scars and scabs (he was trying, trying so hard, but some days he caved, and Kageyama was always there to pick up his broken pieces and make him feel light again). And now, he was light with love once more, laughing against Kageyama’s lips as was twirled around in the mass of people, a few of them laughing at their joyous demeanor.

          “Yeah. We did it Hinata.” his smile was soft, a quiet sort of joy that only Hinata could understand. And with moist eyes he pressed his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, hearing the unspoken praise in Kageyama’s words.

          _You did it Hinata_.


	4. Maybe I'm not broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He always thought he was broken. Kageyama told him otherwise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: none tbh. Hinata has sad thoughts and that's it  
> Prompt: Where the other likes kisses

           He always thought he was broken. He didn’t like what people categorized as ‘relationships’. He didn’t want the sex, or the public displays of affection. He wanted the private cuddles and maybe a smooch on the cheek, but even that grossed him out a little bit. It was weird, because he was okay with sharing water bottles with anyone on the team, hugging them when they were all sweaty, and generally being messy and sharing body fluids. But not kissing. Not even with brushed teeth. It just…freaked him out. He thought he was broken.

          His second year of high school, his non-volleyball friends had told him to ease up on the volleyball craze and find a girlfriend. It scared him. He didn’t want a girlfriend. He didn’t really want anyone. The only person he could think of was Kageyama, and he really didn’t want to kiss him. He liked their friendship—yelling and jokes and complete trust in the other—and didn’t want to complicate it. Besides he didn’t like relationships. Because, really, he couldn’t. He was broken.

          Middle of the school year, Kageyama told him that he liked him. He cried, of course. Cried and told him that he was _so sorry I can’t be with you, I’m broken_. And Kageyama had held him while he cried, ignored the fact that they should be going to volleyball practice and not crying in the middle of the hallway.

_ _ _

          “You aren’t broken, shut up. You look just fine,” Kageyama had taken a step back and patted his hair and grimaced. Hinata just shook his head and gave a small smile.

          “It’s okay, Kageyama, you don’t get it,” shaking off the sadness—or just hiding it behind a carefully developed mask—Hinata smiled, “Let’s go to practice now, okay?”

          They didn’t talk about it for a few weeks, but Kageyama often caught Hinata staring at him with this _broken_ look on his face. He didn’t talk about it for fear of what he would find.

_ _ _

          He wished he talked about it. He wished he knew what Hinata was talking about when he said he was broken. He really wished that when Hinata came up to him and kissed him—hard and bruising and just off the mark—that he knew what the boy was expecting. Instead he just pulled him closer and parted Hinata’s lips, sliding his tongue inside. It only lasted a moment before Hinata was scurrying away from him, a hand on his mouth.

          “I’m so sorry, I feel sick,” he had muttered, before dashing off into the bathroom. Kageyama felt like following him, but he didn’t. Just continued to get ready for practice and willed his stuttering heart to stop beating so fast.

_ _ _

          Broken broken bro _ken_ _broken broken broken_. Hinata laid his hands on the toilet seat and retched again, wanting more than anything to get the taste of Kageyama out of his mouth. Tears hit the rim of the toilet, hands clenching into fists as he sobbed in the empty bathroom. He liked Kageyama, and it sucked. He wanted to cuddle up next to him, to cling to him when scary parts of scary movies happened. He wanted to sigh his name in his sleep and not feel guilty for it.

          He was so, so broken.

_ _ _

          “Hey, you know, I’m sorry for kissing you. Like I did. I wasn’t sure…what you wanted so. I uh…” He looked so cute. A faint blush on his cheeks, eyes averted to the ground.

          “I like you to,” Hinata blurted out, and he cursed himself because someone as radiant and amazing as Kageyama shouldn’t date a _broken human_ , “I like you and I’m scared…and—” a warm hug enveloped him and with a shuddering breath, Hinata laughed and hugged him back.

          “You’re not broken,” was the gruff response and Hinata pretended he wasn’t crying and just nodded his head. Maybe if Kageyama said it enough, he would believe it one day.

_ _ _

          Their relationship was much like what it was before they started going out. Yelling—lots of yelling—and throwing things at each other. Barbed insults that really were just sappy romantic things. Kageyama let Hinata cuddle up against him—which made Hinata so, so happy—and in return Hinata let Kageyama show his affection through kissing his forehead. It still made him uncomfortable, but it was so much better than the lips. And Kageyama had never tried to kiss him again.

          While in college, Hinata had caught Kageyama staring at him while he was getting ready for bed, and laughed at the awestruck look at his boyfriends face.

          “Like what you see, Kageyama?” shaking his hips just a little bit, Hinata watched the faint blush on his boyfriend’s cheeks cover more of his face. Feeling his own face redden, he threw his shirt at Kageyama’s face.

          “Fuck, Hinata, why the hell did you do that? God, I was just looking at you, can I not do that either now?” It came out harsher than intended, and the embarrassed smile on Hinata’s lips turned into a deep frown. “Shit, wait, I. I didn’t mean that.”

          Saying nothing, Hinata got on his own bed and pulled the covers over himself. It was childish, but it still hurt. He knew that Kageyama wanted to kiss him. Kageyama wasn’t broken. Hinata was, broken and bad for Kageyama.

          He felt the bed dip in response to added weight, and Hinata curled tighter into himself. The cool breeze that signified that the covers had been lifted made his muscles tense, but the warm, solid body that slid in next to him comforted him. “I’m sorry,” the words were whispered into his shoulder blades. One hand rubbed up and down Hinata’s exposed side.

          “You’re not broken, you were never broken,” little kisses made his body squirm, and he wanted to get away just as much as he wanted Kageyama to keep doing that. He didn’t like kisses, why did he like _these_ kisses? “I looked into some things about you,” his gravelly voice filled the air between the soft kisses, “there are other people who don’t like kisses, people who don’t like sexual things happening to them. They call themselves asexuals.”

          It felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders; off his chest, his heart, his mind. Other people? Like him? Amazing, that was amazing. Hinata sighed, part because he was relieved, and part because Kageyama had trailed the kisses to his neck. He liked this, a lot.

          “There are other kinds too,” the hand on his side slid down to cup Hinata’s thigh and rubbed at the skin gently. It felt like a light massage—just like what Kageyama would give Hinata when they did their cool downs after practice. It was comforting, “like right now, some asexuals would push their partner away because _this_ is too sexual for them.”

          That baffled Hinata, but he could see it. It was rather intimate, he assumed. But he liked this. It filled him with this unexplainable warmth and it made him happy. Slowly Kageyama sat up and shifted Hinata out of his fetal position, staring down at him. “Kageyama?” his voice was high, soft, scared.

          “I’m going to kiss you,” was the first thing he said, and on instinct Hinata’s body tensed, “not like I did back then, not now. I just…there are people who go by gray-asexuals.”

          Gray? Asexuals? Like they could like sexual things? Hinata opened his mouth to speak, but Kageyama narrowed his eyes in that way that Hinata knew to keep shut. “Some rarely have a sex drive, and some just have a really low one. But…others only say it feels nice under certain circumstances. And I want to kiss you, I want to see…”

          “So you buttered me up so you could kiss me?” There was a teasing tone to Hinata’s words, though his body shook with nervous energy. Should he open his mouth and let Kageyama do as he pleased? Would Kageyama break up with him? “If you’re going to kiss me, dumbass, do it now before I get really scared.”

          He heard Kageyama snort, and blinked his eyes back open, seeing the blush covering his boyfriend’s cheeks. He squeezed them shut again, willing his body to relax. “If you don’t like this, I’ll still love you,” the words brushed Kageyama’s lips against his and then those same lips pressed against his.

          They were chapped yet wet, as if Kageyama had licked his lips before he kissed him. Hinata took a big inhale through his nose and tried to think how gross it was, how weird it was, but he could only come back with how nice it must feel for Kageyama. After so many years to taste his lips again. It was nice, the kiss. And before Hinata could think more on it, they were pulling away, a smile on Kageyama’s face.

          “Was that okay?” Hinata slowly nodded his head, and laughed when Kageyama kissed his cheeks—that didn’t feel gross either nothing felt gross he felt _normal_. There was a name for him. Maybe it wasn’t asexual, but there was a _name somewhere that fit him_. He wasn’t broken.

_ _ _

          Hinata continued to giggle as Kageyama pressed kisses to his temple, forehead, his lips again (because he could and it felt great) before he moved down and pressed fleeting kisses against his neck and jaw and anywhere he could reach because he _could_ and Hinata wasn’t scared—nervous yes, but not scared—and he wanted to. And rather than tense muscles under him, he felt a chest heaving with laughter, light and airy and free.

          “Where would you like to be kissed next, Hinata?” he asked as he came up to stare at his grinning boyfriend, his cheeks flushed due to laughing so much.

          When Hinata surged up to capture his lips in a soft kiss, Kageyama could have sworn his heart stopped. As the ginger fell back onto the bed, he was smiling again, warm and comforting.

          “Everywhere!”


	5. I can't give you that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could cuddle up to you, and have you kiss my cheeks when I come home like they did in the one movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mild description of rape (character death if u want to think about it like that its p open ended tbh)  
> Prompt: Change how they first met
> 
> was this supposed to be sad? nah actually i wanted to write a maid cafe au for this prompt but this little shit came out instead.

           It wasn’t like he wanted to be found. He was so gross. Dirty and gross and used. But the man had stopped in the alleyway and looked at him. Not a glance out of disgust or pity like everyone else, but a solid look. It was terrifying. His navy eyes could kill. Hinata wanted them to kill him. He hoped the man had money, or a gun to kill him with. He hoped so much that he didn’t get off on how he looked and dragged him back to some shady hotel to fuck him until he was crying.

          “Why do you only have _that_ on?” his voice was like his eyes; cold and honest. But his actions were like a beacon of kindness. He had crouched down to Hinata’s level on the floor, and ignored the filth that lay around them, “what happened to you? Where are you from? What is your name?”

          “Hinata.” he could at least answer that much without stuttering, “Hinata…Shouyo.” He fiddled with his threadbare sweater, and hugged it over his knees more, hiding his bare bottom as best he could, “I’m from Kyoto. But I haven’t been back in years. I’ve…” he paused and took a deep breath. He could say it. Maybe if he told this stranger, he could get some help. “I was—

          “You look and smell disgusting,” the stranger stood up and Hinata’s hopes of finding a warm place to stay for the night shattered, “Come on, get up.” When he didn’t move, the stranger blinked a few times, his lips forming an ‘o’ before he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Hinata, “wear that, it should cover you enough.”

_ _ _

          His name was Kageyama. Kageyama Tobio. He was a former vice coach of a volleyball team by the name of Karasuno, and currently was teaching club volleyball down at the local rec center. 27 years old. He seemed so mature compared to Hinata’s 23 years, though Hinata knew that the other seemed so because he hadn’t had part of his childhood ripped out of him and stomped to the ground.

          He lived with Kageyama for five years. It was a wonderful five years, filled with lots of laughing and some expasperated shouting on Kageyama’s side because—really Hinata _do you know how to cook?_ —which usually led to Kageyama seeing the lost look on the ginger’s face and wishing he could take his words back

          Five years, and Hinata never told Kageyama what happened to him. Never let the older man touch him anywhere but the shoulder. He had to knock at all times, not because Hinata wanted privacy, but the invasion of his room—his safe place—was so upsetting for him that the one time Kageyama accidently did it, Hinata flinched away from him for almost a month.

_ _ _

          _Dear Kageyama,_

_I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you before hand. Like really sorry. But I can’t put this into words without crying and I hate crying. Especially in front of you. I haven’t cried since the first day you told me I could stay at your apartment as long as I wanted, granted that I helped clean up the house now and then. I have only you to thank. I’m so glad I met you._

_But this isn’t a letter about me leaving, I would never leave you. I just wanted to tell you what happened. And since I can’t tell you verbally, I figured HEY writing a letter would be a great idea. And it is a great idea, right? Totally._

_When I was 16 I went to Tokyo to see the sights and meet up with a good school friend of mine. I never told you, but I played volleyball too. I think we just missed each other, since I played Karasuno my first year. They beat us, but that was okay. I was still happy. That team looked amazing, and I’m sure that it got better once you helped out. But anyways. I went to Tokyo to see one of my friends, and after we departed, I got lost getting back to the train. It was terrifying, let me tell you. I still remember the lingering feeling of being watched as I looked frantically around trying to figure out where I had ended up._

_To spare the details of my abduction, I’ll skip to my first night. They gave me something, drugs I know that, but it made my body heavy enough that I couldn’t move easily, bound or not. And they, to put it bluntly, raped me. There was several of them. It hurt, Kageyama. It hurt so so much. I remember begging for them to stop, crying and sobbing and biting my tongue because I just couldn’t deal with the pain. They didn’t really prep or anything. Just. Put their fingers in dry and then fucked me dry. I’m sure whatever came out of my butt when they were done was more red than white, despite almost all of them releasing inside._

_I threw up when they left. It felt like hours upon hours I was just emptying my stomach and dry heaving and sobbing. Never once did I feel behind me. I was dirty and used. Disgusting._

_I don’t know how long I stayed in that room, maybe a few weeks? Every now and then they would come in and feed me, and other times they would come in with food, fuck me until I was on the verge of blacking out, and then leaving me to eat. I started to associate food with sex, and I it scared me._

_I counted the days as best I could when they let me out. It helped that after about a month, I found a calendar. My birthday had passed while I was in that cage. I was 17._

_I escaped just before my 18 th birthday—you were maybe 22 at the time—and I didn’t know where to go. I tried to call my mom, but payphones require money—did you know that? I was homeless and only had the clothes on my back. _

_Somehow I found a homeless shelter and stayed there for a few months. I was kicked out when a sudden surge came in after a storm. I wasn’t underaged anymore, they didn’t really need to protect me. I understood, I would have done the same thing. But I was on the streets and not safe. This was still the city I was taken in, and I was sure that men like the ones who took me lurked around in every alley. It terrified me._

_The whole food for sex thing I talked about? Yeah it comes into play._

_Do you feel disgusting? I do. I feel so gross. And broken and used. I feel like I was cheated of so many things. High school graduation. Playing more volleyball. Having my first kiss and first time and first_ everything _ripped away from me left this wound I don’t know how to fix. People scare me, Kageyama. And I’m happy you found me, that you understand  that I need space._

_Often times…I wish I didn’t need that space. I wish I could cuddle up to you, and have you kiss my cheeks when I come home like they did in the one movie. I want to lay next to you in bed and sigh against your mouth as you kiss me._

_I’m sorry I can’t give you that._

_\--Hinata_


	6. You've come so far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their lips pressed together in unison and didn’t part until Hinata managed to straddle his boyfriend, the covers still framing them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mild description of rape (again u ask. well yes. yes again)   
> Prompt: Look at us now
> 
> see the 'change how they first met' was SUPPOSED to be flipping maid cafe and CUTE and //this// one was supposed to be the whole 'hinata was raped and kageyama deals with it' but instead they are BOTH like that so like double the sadness for you. my apologies.

It was weird, thinking back on the past. For both of them. They had come such a long way with each other; though Hinata knew that in his boyfriend’s opinion he was the one who made the most progress.

          Maybe he was right. Not in everything of course, but in their relationship, he had done a number of things that once would make him flinch. So maybe Kageyama was right.

          That was rare.

_ _ _

          The first time he was touched, he was 14 years old and _scared._ Scared and nervous and all he truly wanted to do was go home. Home, home, home. Here wasn’t home, here was hell, this was hell. The first time Hinata remembered his voice cracking had so much less to do with puberty and more to do with the piercing pain that slid into his backside. He remembers thrashing, being hit and told to stay still _or I’ll make it hurt more_. Of all the things, he remembers waking up in his bed the next morning, his attacker handing him eggs and toast as he shuffled into the kitchen.

          “Morning, Dad,” he mumbled, avoiding all eye contact and pressing himself as close to Natsu as he could, helping her cut up her food and making noises. _Big brother, I’m not a child, I can eat by myself!_ Hinata remembers laughing and pulling his hands away at her childish slaps against his hands. The sound caused him to freeze, to think back on the same sounds that had been present last night in an entirely different situation.

          “Are you going to eat, Shouyou?” _don’t call me that, don’t call me that_ Hinata felt sick. Too sick to eat and certainly too sick to go to school. But school was a safe haven. His father couldn’t reach school, not without phone calls and coming up with an excuse to make him come home early.

          After throwing up, he was forced to stay home. And with his mother already at work, and Natsu at school, his father and Hinata had wonderful bonding moments. And by wonderful, Hinata truly wished at 14, he could die.

_ _ _

          When he fell in love with Kageyama at 16 years old, his wounds were still fresh. His dad had left, disappeared in the night almost a year after he first soiled his son. Hinata was glad, but scared since they hadn’t moved houses since then. When he fell in love with Kageyama, he was scared that Kageyama would find out about his wounds—inside and out.

          He confessed anyways, and his affections were bluntly accepted. It made him smile and laugh—which earned him a slap on the shoulder and a gruff _shut up, Hinata_ from his crush—his boyfriend?

_ _ _

          Kageyama kissed him during the holiday season, and Hinata promptly broke down into tears and mumbled _I’m sorry I’m so sorry_ before he stumbled out of Kageyama’s room. His boyfriend of several months found him shivering in the cold, and Hinata looked up, his face blotchy from being cold and sobbing.

          “You’re tears are going to freeze on your face. Get inside.”

          He wanted to tell Kageyama that day, sipping hot cocoa in their kitchen, but his lips wouldn’t form the words. _I was raped by my father for almost a year_. No one knew, save for the fact that his sister must have sensed something, since she never really liked their dad to touch her.

          No one knew, not even his mother, and he wanted to tell Kageyama.

          What if he ran away too?

_ _ _

          “You have to tell me what’s wrong, Hinata. I can’t…I can’t help you if you don’t _talk_ to me,” over the course of a year, he had yet to tell Kageyama, but when Hinata woke up crying and Kageyama hovering over him, all he wanted to do was have the world swallow him whole. “Hinata you have to tell me, something at least. _Please_. I’m worried.”

          Nodding, Hinata sat up and wiped at his tears. “I. I was…” his throat closed up and he shook his head. The mattress dipped under him, and focusing his eyes on Kageyama, he climbed into his boyfriends lap and pressed his face into the crook of his neck.

          “It’s okay, I’ll still care for you. No matter what you tell me,” his voice was unnaturally soft. It was kind and caring and _worried_ and it made Kageyama cry all over again.

          “My father raped me, Kageyama.” He spit out, pulling his head up to meet Kageyama’s wide eyes, “F-for about a year…he would…do stuff to me. It…it always hurt. His eyes though…they scared me. He wasn’t my father, he was…”

          “A monster,” Kageyama cut in, his face contorting in such a way that scared Hinata frozen. He wasn’t sure that the fear was so plainly written on his face, but moments later, Kageyama’s features softened, the calloused tips of his fingers ghosting across Hinata’s cheeks, “He was a monster.”

          “That makes me one too,” in response to his boyfriend’s soft tone, his voice had adopted a hushed volume. Golden eyes stared into navy for a moment before dropping down to stare at the bedsheets under them, “I’m just as horrible of a monster as he is. He _touched_ me, he-he…passed it _on_ I just know it.”

          Fingers slid up his cheeks until Kageyama was cupping his face, tilting his head up to that golden eyes would meet his, “You are anything but a monster. Not like him. Never like him.” When Hinata tried to shake his head, those fingers tightened just enough to tell Hinata to stop, “You are _perfect_. So, so perfect.” Relaxing his grip on Hinata’s jaw, Kageyama let his head tilt forward so he could press their foreheads together.

          “I’m not like him?” it was childish. He knew he wasn’t like him. But he always told himself _he touched you, he sullied you, he marked you as his, you are to carry on the dirty ways and everything you touch will be ruined_. Here was Kageyama, holding him close and telling him the exact opposite. That he was perfect, not a monster. _Not a monster_. “I’m not…” his breath hitched, “I’m nothing like him?” another hitch of his breath, his voice cracking at the end, “Am I really…?”

          He felt cool air hit his forehead as Kageyama pulled back, only to feel the fleeting warmth of lips on the same spot before he was being pulled into a tight hug, “Yeah. Nothing like him. Not a single trace of him is on you.”

          “N-nothing?” He sounded so broken. Broken and scared, and truly he was both of those things. For over four years he had told himself that it was his fault, that he was a monster for having his father to that to him, that he was the reason Natsu was growing up without a dad, why his mother worked more. He told himself often that maybe the world would be better off without a monster, that he would only hurt people. On the same coin, he jumped at every dark alley, every shadow, every creak in the floorboards that was really just the house moving and _not his father coming into his room he isn’t here go to sleep Shouyo_.

          Feeling warm lips press against his temple, and the whispered ‘ _nothing_ ’ into his ear, Hinata clung to his boyfriend and cried.

_ _ _

          “Morning, Shou.” Hinata grinned above his boyfriend, seeing messy dark locks and hazy blue eyes, “’S the time?”

          “Like, seven,” at Kageyama’s wrinkly nose, Hinata leaned down and kissed the fold before directing his aim to Kageyama’s mouth, “Morning, Tobio.” He breathed out, laughing more when the other kicked him off to the side, grumbling about morning breath. Whatever, he had it too.

          “You’re so gross, it’s too early. Go back to sleep, dumbass.” Despite Hinata’s whines, Kageyama pulled the covers up over the both of them and rolled over on his boyfriend, crushing him against the mattress, “It’s early, Shou. Go to sleep, dammit.”

          Instead of responding, Hinata just kissed Kageyama again. And again. Until their lips pressed together in unison and didn’t part until Hinata managed to straddle his boyfriend, the covers still framing them. When they pulled away, he licked at the string of saliva that connected him, remembering the first time it had touched Kageyama’s chin years back and him freaking out about how _gross_ it was.

          Hands traced up his sides, leaving in their wake a warm hum under his skin, before the cupped his cheeks and brought Hinata’s face down so that Kageyama could press little butterfly kisses along his nose. “Look at you,” he hummed into the sun-kissed skin. Hinata giggled at the feel of eyelashes brushing against him, and felt Kageyama snort.

         Hinata shifted lower so he could rest his forehead against Kageyama’s, staring into the still sleepy navy blue eyes, “Look at me,” he repeated, a smile in his voice. Fingers—now much more calloused from many years of volleyball games and practices—pressed gently into his skin and Hinata got a rare Kageyama Smile™

          “Look at you. So…happy.” Hinata snorted loudly and winced when Kageyama pinched his skin, “Compare it to five years ago, Shou. You were a mess, look at you now.” At Hinata’s blush that covered his nose (and surely his covered cheeks), “You kiss me in the morning, and breathe my name, and you don’t flinch at me touching you, most days. You’ve come so far.”

          “Well, it wasn’t like I didn’t have to teach you things to not do. So, you came a long way too, dummy.” He was smiling to wide for the childish name calling to mean anything but a term of endearment, “So look at you, too. You’re just as amazing as I am.”

          “But you’re more amazing,” When Hinata opened his mouth to protest that, no Kageyama was so much more amazing (and knowing the two of them, it would dissolve into hours later before they called a truce and agreed to disagree), Kageyama kissed him silent, smirking when he felt the large exhale of breath leave Hinata’s lungs.

          “Fine then; look at us now.” He pecked Hinata’s lips once more before letting his hand fall off his cheeks and nudged his boyfriend off his body, “As much as I enjoy looking at us, it is seven in the morning, and I want to sleep.”

          A soft kiss to his cheek and then, “I love you.”

          Hinata was sure that Kageyama had muttered back an ‘I love you too’ but it didn’t matter if the words were said or not. He knew the answer regardless.


	7. You are the Exception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon realizing that what he felt for his best friend wasn’t really friendship but this horrible aching crush he drank more until the room was hazy and spinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None (brief mention of drinking but w/e)  
> Prompt: little things
> 
> WELL LOOK AT THAT THEY BOTH LIVE AND ITS JUST REALLY CUTE???? NO DEATH NO SADS, JUST DUMB BOYS KISSING HAHAHHA  
> ENJOY IT NERDS
> 
> also really i would like to thank all of u for leaving me kudos and comments and stuff b/c i may act like i just joke around and //idk like im used to this// but everytime i get an email for this stuff i cry a little bit more inside b/c im just sO HAPPY. esp the comments. leave me as many as u want, it makes my day so much better

          Kageyama often didn’t pay attention to the little things; birthdays, what the other liked more than something else, favorite movies, and the like. But Hinata seemed to be the exception. Not in the sense that Kageyama _knew_ all the little things, but he wanted to know them. He wanted to know what Hinata’s favorite color was, what movies made him cry and which ones made him laugh so hard he started crying.

          He never asked though. Not once in high school, did he go up to his partner—in volleyball only—and ask these things. He didn’t see a point. During second year, Hinata and Yachi had gotten close, the two of them blushing and tripping over words around each other so often that Tsukishima jokingly made a rule that players couldn’t date managers. Kageyama didn’t get to see Hinata’s reaction, but judging by the laughter on the team he assumed the boy was blushing and glaring at their bratty blond.

          It was surprising that one night—through a drunken haze and several dares—that Hinata kissed Kageyama. His body had frozen for those few precious seconds, torn between kissing back and committing the moment to memory, or just letting it happen. The latter won out, up until Hinata was pulling away, a dark blush on his cheeks that _wasn’t_ there when he had leaned in, and his eyes downcast in such a way that it tugged at Kageyama’s heartstrings. Volleyball had made his reflexes quick, and while he wished he could say the same for Hinata, he would be lying. So we he attempted to tug the other back to his lips, Hinata froze up for the briefest of moments before he lost his balance and tumbled onto Kageyama. The force of the ginger boy knocking into him tipped him onto his back, and with laughs from the rest of the group, Kageyama looked at the ceiling and sighed.

          Maybe next time.

          Next time came in the form of the two of them having coffee together, their table secluced away from everything else. Hinata had foam on his lip, and no matter how many times Kageyama said _on your right_ , the boy kept licking his lips in the wrong place. A napkin would have been more sanitary, hell it would have been less embarrassing, but a kiss seemed so _right_ that Kageyama did it anyways. He was greeted with the same blush he dimly remembers that one night months ago when Hinata kissed him on a dare.

          He was not a man of the little things. But for Hinata, he would be. The amber flecks in his eyes seemed to shine in the light as they stared at him, the tiny _tiny_ little dots—not freckles but not a skin blemish either—darkened as Hinata’s blush darkened and grew to cover his face. But what Kageyama was glad he was a man of little things for Hinata, was when those full lips moved just the slightest bit, tongue licking at them.

          “Kiss me again.”

_ _ _

          Hinata paid attention to everything, but since it was _everything_ the little things seemed to always go over his head. That was never the case when it came to Kageyama. He knew everything about his volleyball partner. From the exact color of his eyes (a dark blue with these flecks of other blue colors that just made it look like his eyes were _stars_ ), to his favorite color and favorite food. He even knew his favorite movie genre.

          He never went out of his way to figure these things out, and in hindsight, they were just things he seemed to remember out of lots and lots of little things. But so many were about Kageyama that there had to be a reason for it.

          The epiphany came to him on the night of their graduation party. Their team from back when they were mere first years managed to get together for one night (rare with almost all of them in college now) and have a good time. They drank much more than Hinata thought they were going to, and upon realizing that what he felt for his best friend wasn’t really friendship but this _horrible aching crush_ he drank more until the room was hazy and spinning.

          It was no surprise that when he woke up on the couch and only in his boxers, he remembered nothing about the night and felt like complete and utter shit. Luckily he didn’t throw up (unlike poor Yamaguchi) and was able to hold down Daichi’s lovely meal of greasy bacon and pancakes.

          It was many months before Hinata knew what had happened that night, and even though he rarely saw Kageyama when he was informed, Hinata made sure to avoid his friend for the better part of two weeks as he came to terms what his drunken self had done. Did he remember? Was he disgusted? There was no change in how Kageyama had been talking to him. Was the feeling mutual? What the hell was going on?

          Surprisingly it was Kageyama who asked Hinata to go get some coffee one day that they were both free (despite both going to the same college, being different majors and sucking at studying really took a toll on their time together). Hinata agreed—of course—and the friendly date was spent chattering about how classes were going, how much homework sucked, and how everyone else was doing in their group. They even made plans to head back to Karasuno to check in on their team.

          There was no warning to lips being pressed against his. Well, maybe there was. Kageyama had informed him that there was foam on the corner of his lips, and no matter how many times Hinata licked at them, his friend grew more and more exasperated at the fact that Hinata couldn’t handle getting stuff off his face. So instead of using a napkin—which truly was his next action _really_ —Kageyama decided that his own lips could get the foam off of Hinata’s mouth. When Kageyama pulled back, Hinata smiled and licked at his lips, tasting the coffee that Kageyama had in his mug.

          “Kiss me again.”

          His wish was granted and those warm lips met his again. Hinata focused on everything so intently that the little things tended to escape his notice, but he could recall how Kageyama’s hands had flexed against the wood table, his body shifting as he had to lean over the table to meet Hinata’s lips, and the blush on his cheeks.

It was perfect.


	8. It feels like fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s no rush, Shou” Kageyama pecked at his nose before biting down on it, receiving a shove from his childish boyfriend, “We have plenty of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Nothing??? just fluff again  
> Prompt: Fireworks
> 
> wOAH THE RATING??? UP??? WHYYYY??? b/c i wrote sex. ish. not really but w/e its sexual so //teens should be ware// or smth idk. i also do want to write them doing the whole sex thing but that might be for next week. which i only have to deal with my college classes for two weeks i'm so excited. hell. yes.

          All of Hinata’s high school and most of his college life, people had been telling him that first kisses felt like fireworks, that the first time having sex was electric, explosive. He never understood why they put such emphasis on sexual doings, and rarely saw the appeal of it. Many of his friends pegged him as a ‘late bloomer’ because he saw no appeal in sex. When he came out as gay—though in truth he was an asexual homoromantic but that was going to take too long to explain and he doubted they would _care_ or _listen_ —they accepted him. Which made him happy. But that opened up a whole new world of ‘if your gay, why don’t you like sex I thought all gay dudes liked it up the ass’ and a _lot_ of attempting to dumb down the one thing he was passionate about for college friends.

          Many people assumed he was single because of his dislike for sexual activities, but in truth, Hinata had been going out with what people _thought_ was his best friend, Kageyama Tobio. Only their old volleyball team—from their senpais to the 3 rd years they left behind when they graduated—knew of their relationship. It was hard to tell most of the time. They acted like best friends, and the only difference that gave proof that they were dating was the too long touches and the lovesick fondness that shone bright in Kageyama’s eyes every time that Hinata opened his mouth.

          While Hinata was never really up for sex, he did like making his boyfriend feel nice, and would press feather light kisses along his chest as he fell asleep, and would run his fingers through Kageyama’s hair, whispering sweet things as his boyfriend woke up. On days when Hinata knew he was going to be too hyper for his boyfriend to deal with, he would make coffee for the both of them and go for a run before waking up Kageyama. Just to use up some of his energy.

         It was at 24 years old, a senior in college and so _close_ to his degree that he could taste it, that Hinata felt something that was different than normal. It was a normal movie night—this week it was a horribly funny rom-com—when Kageyama leaned down to kiss his shoulder, a move he had done so many times over the past 8 years. But it felt different. It was too warm and even after the lips left his skin, the patch of flesh felt like it was on fire. He ignored it in favor of laughing at the movie, but the thought of something being wrong—a fever? Was he sick?—suck with him until he fell asleep.

          The next day he asked Kageyama about it, struggling through his words as he tried to describe what the kiss felt like. _Fireworks_ he said, _it felt like fireworks under my skin_. He watched as the wrinkle between Kageyama’s brows smoothed out, and was replaced by a small smile. Smooth fingertips hooked under his jaw and tilted it up, (for a moment Hinata tensed up before realizing it was _Kageyama_ ) and a soft kiss pecked the tip of his nose.

           It felt like a miniature fire started under the skin, and Hinata hummed, mumbling that it felt weird again. Under their own apartment roof, Hinata blushed as he heard his boyfriend’s laughter, before more kisses peppered his face and Kageyama stepped back. “You’ve never blushed like that before.” He said, which made Hinata feel more odd and uncomfortable, but as much as he wanted to cover his face, he knew that Kageyama would just remove them so really there was no point.

         “What is _wrong_ with me,” he groaned, ruffling his own hair with a nose wrinkle on his face, “It’s been _years_ since I felt weird like this,” he ignored his boyfriend’s jab at Hinata _always_ being weird and focused on how the kisses felt. Fireworks, warm skin, clammy hands, _blushing_. It sounded like he was in love. Which didn’t even sound right. He loved Kageyama and would do everything for him no matter what. He knew that he would never love someone as much as he loved Kageyama, but he never blushed at the sweet kisses or felt anything other than warm affection. Not this fire that burned and refused to be ignored.

         It was explosive, like fireworks.

         Two weeks later it hit him. His friends said that kisses felt like fireworks. His alosexual friends. It explained what he was feeling but _why_ was he feeling it now, after 8 years of being with Kageyama? He had no classes today, a rare blessing that had bestowed itself in the form of his professor getting a head cold and not wanting to pass it on. With all the free time, Hinata took to the internet, curled up on his laptop as he googled all the things about how he felt that night. Demisexual and gray-ace jumped out at him, saying that it might be because he needed a close bond—was 8 years enough, seriously?—or that his sex drive was just extremely low. And while he was uncertain which he fell under, if he fell under them at all or if something else would come up, Hinata felt better that nothing was wrong with him.

         At 25 years old, Hinata got his first kiss. It was his birthday gift. Which was surprising but it made him happy all the same. He had always talked to Kageyama about what kisses felt like, and if they felt like fireworks, ever since the night he discovered he might have a sex drive. Kageyama and smooched his cheeks and told him to think on it, to do as much research as he could and figure himself out. After 8 years, Hinata still felt every bit of in love with Kageyama as he had on the first day they held hands.

         It was magical. Fireworks, just like everyone had said. Hinata knew his lips were damp and bitten up, but it offset Kageyama’s smooth lips that slide against his with such clumsy confidence that Hinata had to pull away to laugh at the two of them—halfway to 30 and getting their first kiss—before pressing their lips lightly together again. His birthday was spent curled up on the couch, his face between Kageyama’s hands as they traded kisses and talked to each other. It was perfect.

         Hinata really never figured out what he was, and after a while he just didn’t care. As the months passed, Hinata felt his skin get hot every time Kageyama kissed him, and even gasped softly when his boyfriend nipped at his arm to get his attention. As soon as the sound left his lips, both of them blushed and looked away, Kageyama stuttering over his words and Hinata reverting into the child he truly was and talking way too loud. It took a couple of days, but the next time they kissed, Kageyama gently bit at his lower lip and sucked on it, and Hinata felt such an electric shock go through him and he pressed forward and hummed, his hands clutching at Kageyama’s shirt.

         The first time they had sex, it was less sex and more Hinata feeling every kiss that Kageyama pressed into his skin. They had agreed to _try_ , and at almost 31 years old Hinata figured it was time to attempt to make this thing happened. If he didn’t like it, he could stop it at any time no matter what. Kageyama had given him his word.

          It started out the same they always did; kissing. They had sort of mastered—or figured out what the other liked—the art of kissing with _tongues_ (it took so long for them to not pull away and spit out the others saliva because really it _was_ sort of gross) a few years ago, but they rarely went any heavier than that. Kageyama knew all Hinata’s weak spots, and in a ploy to get him to turn into a boneless pile, used each and every one of them. When Kageyama pulled away, Hinata glared up at him through half lidded eyes and flushed cheeks.

          “Beautiful,” the word formed on his boyfriend’s lips, the sound carrying softly in the space between them. Holding up his hands, Hinata looped them around Kageyama’s neck and pulled him back down to his lips with a smile, smooching him wetly before tilting his head.

          He had expected something gross and filled with fluids from so many places, but maybe it was because they didn’t get to actual penetration that made it so much better. Kageyama had slowly disposed of Hinata’s clothes as they got in the way, and in return took off an article of his clothing. Kisses started at his lips and worked down to his jaw, then neck. Little nips turned his skin red, but Hinata knew that Kageyama wouldn’t mark him hard enough for it to last more than a few hours; not unless he asked. Thumbs rolled over his nipples, and Hinata arched his back into the touch, a mewl sounding in the back of throat. A warm tongue lapped at both of them in turn, turning Hinata into a gasping mess, his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried to muffle himself.

          The trail of kisses was interrupted by a peck to his nose, “Let me hear you. _Please_.” The soft pad of fingers brushed over his bitten lip, releasing it from Hinata’s teeth, “You sound perfect, don’t muffle them.” Blinking his eyes open, Hinata smiled at his boyfriend, the flush on his face darkening.

          “Kinky, Tobio. You’re getting kinky after all these years.” Those navy eyes flashed with affection and annoyance, and Hinata’s laugh turned into a high hum as Kageyama responded by nipping at his collarbone.

          Kisses continued down to his hips, and one kiss was placed in the concaves of the bones before Kageyama bypassed Hinata’s boxer-briefs and resumed the trail of kisses on the inside of his thighs.

          After thoroughly kissing all avalible skin, Kageyama sat up and pulled off Hinata’s boxers, leaning to kiss Hinata’s lips as he loosely gripped the erection Hinata had gotten from Kageyama kisses. Only a few pumps of Kageyama’s hand was all it took for Hinata to bite his lip and thrust his hips up with uneven thrusts as he came over his boyfriend’s hand.

          Fireworks. That’s what it felt like. All the orgasms he had ever had in his 30 years could be counted on one hand, and Hinata could comfortably say that none of them ever made him feel like that.

          “Was it good?” the calm and assertive Kageyama was no longer in front of him, and the worry that was plastered on his boyfriend’s face made Hinata want to cry. He seriously had the best boyfriend ever. “Did I hurt you, was everything to your liking?” When Hinata just smiled at him, Kageyama pinched his side with a frown, “Answer me with words, dumbass, I can’t read your mind.”

           “It felt like fireworks, Tobio.” He muttered, reaching up to pull his boyfriend down on top of him, laughing lightly, “It was amazing. I don’t think…I would want to do it again anytime soon. That was exhausting.” He dramatically yawned before a real yawn overtook him, his jaw popping.

          “There’s no rush, Shou” Kageyama pecked at his nose before biting down on it, receiving a shove from his childish boyfriend, “We have plenty of time.”


	9. We will never know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry
> 
> He knows exactly who it’s from. Mouth open in a wordless cry, Hinata passes back out, fingers clutching at the note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Rape, self harm, suicide, overdose  
> Prompt: For you
> 
> im REALLY sorry. srsly tho. rape. like. not glossed over. its crude b/c i couldnt really do it
> 
> read at ur own will i cant mark where the stuff starts and stops b/c its literally a whole thing of self harm to rape to overdosing and suicide

          It had always been an issue, his self confidence. It was a fragile thing. He remembers the first few months of his first year spent crying into his pillow as soon as he got home, replaying all the thing Tsukishima had said to him. How worthless he was, how horrible he was at _everything_ and dammit he _tried_ so much and the bastard still always had to say those things. It still hurt to this day, but now he can cover it with a thinly veiled smile. His coping mechanism has changed between first meeting Tsukishima and now. Before he cried and screamed and hated everything. He was vocal about it, angry that the blond did that to him so much.

          Sometimes he could go home and not do anything. He could act normal and push his feelings down—those ugly dark feelings—into a small bottle and cork it. Pretend it wasn’t there and act normal. For his mother, for Natsu. He could do it. he would be leaving home soon, the least he could do was be there for his little sister. She loved him, she deserved his attention. She deserved a big brother who wasn’t fucked up. And since Hinata couldn’t give that to her, he gave her an act, put on a brave face just for her.

          Sometimes the words Tsukishima said rolled right off him, he could fire back with another snarky comment and engage in light banter. It wasn’t that Tsukishima was a _bad_ person—just not really the most likeable. But Hinata enjoyed his presence sometimes. It was quiet and even if the blond made fun of him, he would help Hinata when he _really_ needed it.

          The days he came home and holed himself up in his room were the days that Kageyama had gotten upset with him. They had been unofficially a thing since the middle of first year, the two of them sharing kisses and going on dates. But they were scared of pushing it farther than that. More like Hinata was scared. He likes Kageyama, cares for him in the most romantic of ways. But he knows what he is like angry. All snapping and grips too hard that they _bruise_ and his tone so low and dangerous that it takes all of Hinata’s will power to not cry right then and there. It takes so much self control—control that he really doesn’t have—not to dig his nails into his skin, to pick at it until it hurts and _bleeds_.

          The days after _those_ days all the places where Kageyama had touched him burn and itch. The healing wounds—cleanly sliced up into his skin, many criss-crossing for a more painful effect—a clear reminder of _why_ Hinata never let Kageyama touch him while he wasn’t upset. He would find out, he would _see_ and as angry as Kageyama got sometimes—more often than not now that college entrance exams were coming up—if the unangry Kageyama were to see, it would destroy him.

          Maybe he needs to see though. Hinata still would never show him.

          It takes one evening of Kageyama yelling at him—something about how Hinata’s serves that day were so fucking shitty—that he just snaps.

_ _ _

          “I hate you.” It comes out low and hard, his normally wide honey eyes narrowed with anger. Kageyama’s grip tightens on his arm, and having enough of the whole thing, Hinata rips his arm free, ignoring the pain the action causes. He still had fresh wounds on that part of his arm, and he is sure they are bleeding under their bandage, “I hate you, I _hate_ you, I—!” his voice stutters off into a sob, and the anger in Kageyama’s eyes disappears for a moment, concern taking over.

          “Hinata, I didn’t,” those fingers, like claws, reach forward, and with a low cry, Hinata takes a large step back. There is pain in Kageyama’s eyes and though all he wants to do is rush forward and hug his _best friend_ he can’t do it anymore. He can’t. He’s had enough. “I didn’t mean…”

          There is a smile on his face, a crude one, “You need help, Kageyama,” He starts, taking another step back, “You hurt me, day after day. You. I can’t…I can’t pretend it doesn’t happen. I can’t pretend your touches _scare_ me, that I tense up when you come near me,” He’s crying openly now and Hinata takes a moment to wipe at his eyes, “I’m scared of everything I say, hoping it doesn’t set you off. I try hard at practice, trying to make sure you don’t yell at me.”

          “If you weren’t so _clumsy_ then I would—”

          “I feel safer with Tsukishima than I feel with you. I’ve felt safer hanging out with _him_ and his horrible jokes and things he says to me, than I have felt hanging out with you since our second year.”

          It feels refreshing to say it, like a weight lifted off his shoulders. Kageyama doesn’t need to know about how much his words—his touches—hurt him. He doesn’t need to know about the cuts on his arms, the deep scratch marks that Hinata leaves in his legs at night because he has nightmares about Kageyama touching him and hurting him, whispering such degrading things just as much as he tells Hinata he loves him.

          The look on Kageyama’s face tears at his heart, but Hinata forces himself to take another step back. This time, Kageyama takes a step forward, and Hinata feels his blood turn to ice.

          “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” the words are broken, and looking up, Hinata sees that his best friend—his crush, his _nightmare_ —is crying as well, “I would have fixed myself. I would have done anything for you. I just wanted.”

          “I was scared. You scare me,” Gripping his school bag, Hinata takes one last look at Kageyama’s face—crumpled in pain and defeat—before he turns around, “If you…do things for me as much as you say you do. Please don’t come near me ever again.”

          He doesn’t look back as he leaves the school grounds, despite the few calls of his name—given and last. He cries the entire way home, ignoring Natsu’s worried glances as he holes himself up in his room.

_ _ _

          Three weeks later he has a dream. A very realistic dream

          In the dream his eyes blink open, and his body tells him that there is something wrapped around his mouth. He tries to move it off with his tongue, but finds it a heavy sort of cloth that isn’t budging. Figuring it would be smart to use his hands, Hinata moves his arm, but finds it blocked as well. Heartbeat picking up, Hinata scans the dark room, finding a dark figure at the foot of his bed. A muffled sound escapes him, and the figure moves; slow and without sound.

          “Everything is for you,” the figure whispers. It sounds like sin; dark and ugly with emotions that Hinata can’t place. But it’s so full of love, that it makes his heart hurt. He’s scared, but no amount of pulling or pushing or _screaming_ is going to help him. Dreams are terrifying like that.

          He feels damp lips press against the cloth over his mouth before moving down his jaw. Hard bites dig into his neck and collarbone, each soothed with a gentle kiss and lick. Hinata isn’t sure when his shirt was removed—or how—but he screams as teeth bite down on one of his nipples and tugs up. When it is released, Hinata realizes he is crying, and those lips press against each of his cheeks, “I love you, don’t leave me,” it sounds as broken as Hinata _feels_. Is this a version of him? the voice is too deep to be his, it sounds almost like Kageyama’s except not quite.

          The torturous dream continues with the person shedding his pants and grabbing his cock, tugging harshly at it, enough to make tears spring to Hinata’s eyes at the pain and pleasure rocking through his body. Before he can tell himself not to, Hinata is thrusting into that dry heat around his penis, panting heavily through the cloth. His hips stutter and he feels that wonderful orgasmic rush flow through his veins, hips rising as he comes.

          Except he doesn’t. The figure presses a finger against his slit, hard enough to stop the flow of semen. At the same time a dry finger is shoved up his ass, and Hinata cries out, loud enough to be clear around the cloth.

          “Shh, shhh, it’s okay. It’s because I love you,” he feels oddly soothed, but his body hurts and his ass feels like it’s being ripped in two. Moments later another dry finger joins the first, then a third, until all three are pushing in and out of his anus, the burn enough to make Hinata wiggle and scream. His erection is sagging at the pain, and the figure takes this opportunity—since Hinata is far from coming—to grip at his throat and lean close, “This is _for you_ , so you better fucking like it.” _That_ sounds so close to Kageyama’s voice, and Hinata can even make out what looks like navy eyes. He knows it’s a dream, but the thought of Dream Kageyama doing something so horrible to him makes him sob more.

          Three fingers feel like nothing compared to Dream Kageyama’s cock up his ass. Hands push his legs apart, gripping tight at the thighs and he thrusts in and out. It hurts at first—actually it never stops hurting—but soon the dry feeling lessens with the dream figures precum and likely blood as he tears at the walls with his rough pounding.

          He could have maybe got through it all if the figure hadn’t figured out where his prostate was, aiming for it and hitting it enough that Hinata has another erection, the pleasure almost overriding the pain.

          _“For you, for you,”_ he hears, aside from panting and low grunts. The hard thrusts stutter for a moment, catching Hinata off guard enough that the unexpected burst of pleasure causes him to come. Dream Kageyama pounds into him through his orgasm, and long after. Well past the fact that Hinata is crying from being oversensitive. Finally— _finally_ —a warm sensation pools in his ass, a sharp grunt coming from above him.

          “You were perfect.” The hands loosen on his thighs, and the figures dick slips out of his ass. Before those fingers can untie the cloth around his hands and mouth, Hinata’s dream pulls him back under.

          When he wakes up, he has rug burn on his wrists along with dark bruises on his upper thighs. Every movement makes his ass hurt, and with a shocking breath Hinata comes to terms with the fact that _that was not a dream_. As the tears cloud his vision he sees a piece of paper on his night stand.

          _I’m so sorry_

          He knows exactly who it’s from. Mouth open in a wordless cry, Hinata passes back out, fingers clutching at the note.

_ _ _

          He lasts all of two days seeing his attacker at school, at practice, before he caves. The marks and bruises are still there, his lower back _still_ hurts, and the pain in his chest just grows every day. When he comes home, no one is there, and taking advantage of the fact that no one will walk in on him, Hinata all but rushes to the bathroom, knocking down pill bottle after pill bottle until he finds his mother’s old sleeping pills. He hurries into his room to grab his weapons, and slices at his thighs first, tears mixing with the blood that drips on his carpet. Second he downs as many pills as he can without water—each sliding down his throat slow enough that he almost gags them back up. Before he can succumb to the heavy feeling in his limbs, Hinata cuts up his wrists, pressing harder and harder into the skin, until he finally feels too tired to continue. Curling up on the floor he cries, wishing that he was stronger, that Kageyama was a better person, that he had _never_ gone to Karasuno.

          Hinata doesn’t wake up, and his little sister has to live with the fact that she found her brother dead—either from blood loss or an overdose, the doctors aren’t sure what killed him first—in his room, tears stains dried on his face.

          Kageyama doesn’t come to the funeral.


End file.
